


dirt in our lungs

by louscr



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Claustrophobia, Emotions, F/F, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 16:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21497017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louscr/pseuds/louscr
Summary: "I needed to," he shrugs. "I couldn't leave you in the Buried."(He thinks there is more to it, but nothing he can put into words. Only the feeling of regret deep in his bones and the memory of her and Basira and Tim in those last moments.)
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Jonathan Sims & Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 13
Kudos: 182





	dirt in our lungs

**Author's Note:**

> same soulmark au as the first in this series! (you do not have to read that one to understand this one though!)

Jon thinks his fingers may break with how tight Daisy's grip on his hand is. Every other bone will shatter from the crushing weight of above and below and besides, all of it squeezing in tighter upon them.

He pulls them both another few inches in a direction that he thinks is up solely because of how his chest longs for it, damning the grit in his mouth and his eyes and his nose. Someone is calling for help. Another voice, or maybe the same one, is crying, and Jon doesn't know if it's him or Daisy or another person trapped with them somewhere in this place forever beneath all. 

The crevice they're in only seems to be getting smaller, but Jon  _ knows _ that this is the right way, the knowledge swelling from somewhere deeper than his bones.

Another scramble to gain a few inches and Daisy's hand nearly slips from where it’s anchored around his wrist. Jon freezes immediately, tightening his grip, and pulling her as close as he can, more terrified of crawling through the crushing dark alone than he is of the pressure facing them on all sides.

_ (They travel inch by inch, time passing inconceivably, their only awareness each other and the endless depths.) _

Jon is almost starting to believe they're getting closer when Daisy shudders to a stop, forehead resting heavy against Jon's forearm, just above where her hand has laid a bruise into his skin.

She is breathing heavy, each inhale truncated and desperate. "Tell me about the sky," Daisy whispers, and it's not a question. Before she lifts her head she lets herself press her forehead harder against Jon's arm, taking a moment to steel herself.

Jon tells her.

_ (Around dirt and dust and terror clogging his throat, he talks of wind and blue and horizons, of falling from a tree and rain upon your skin and trailing your fingers through fog as the sun rises on a blank sky.) _

_ (He talks of things he can barely remember.) _

Jon thinks he's crying by the time he finishes talking, runs out of words for the world above. 

Daisy's sigh is muffled, something between sadness and contentment. Her grip tightens for a second in thanks. 

Jon replies in kind and resolutely ignores how they both shake with exhaustion in favor of continuing up and up and up.

He doesn't know how long it takes, but eventually they can scramble to their feet on those rough stone stairs and heave the wooden door of the coffin open with feeble arms.

_ (It’s easy then, to take those last three steps and collapse to the dusty, wooden floor, the coffin's lid closing behind them just as Basira enters the room.) _

* * *

They are on a bench, freshly bruised and smeared with dirt and scratches, watching the night sky. There is silence, the sort that the air fills with ease and comfort, and the moon is nearly full, giving off just enough light to see by.

A hand reaches out, over a darkening bruise, and someone smiles, stained with dust and grit.

"Thank you," the stars hear one whisper, voice shaking and sincere.

_ (Another small smile, stained with dust and grit just as the first, shines in the night.) _

* * *

"Why did you do it?" Daisy asks, head tilted and eyes watching him carefully. They are in the biggest room in the archives, finally free of the dirt that had clung so tightly to their clothes and skin and eyes.

Jon keeps his gaze carefully on the first aid kit he's shuffling through, looking for something small to close up the few scrapes that are actively bleeding.

"I needed to," he shrugs. "I couldn't leave you in the Buried."

_ (He thinks there is more to it, but nothing he can put into words. Only the feeling of regret deep in his bones and the memory of her and Basira and Tim in those last moments.) _

_ (He hopes she understands, even if he can't say any of it.) _

Daisy nods, a careful look on her face before she reaches out and takes the gauze from Jon's hands. Gently, she centers some of it over the biggest scrape on his upper arm and begins to fix it in place.

* * *

She is staring at the mirrored stag horns branching around Basira's forearms, rememorizing every part of them as she stubbornly ignores her own tears. This part of the archives, hidden in the back, is quiet, near empty, and they are sat cross legged in a cot, nose to nose.

Basira's hands are tracing over every bruise and scrape on Daisy's bare arms. She lingers on a bruise just overlapping the lotus flower on the front of Daisy's shoulder.

_ (Daisy wants to leans forward and close her eyes and pull Basira into a kiss, but she is still so scared. So scared that if she stops focusing for a single moment she will be back below, buried and crushed.) _

Still searching, Basira's hands trace gently over her left wrist, where Jon's handprint is pressed into her skin in darkening purple and red, the faint black outline of a mark forming over it. "I'm so glad you're here," she says, meeting Daisy's eyes steadily. There are tears there, running down Basira's face and falling from her chin even as she smiles softly.

Daisy chokes on her words, overwhelmed for a moment, before turning her hand, slipping it to fit in Basira's, and squeezing lightly. 

"I love you."

* * *

Daisy's hand is around his before he can even notice her moving to do so, her left on his right, and she is smiling over their drinks at him, Basira at her side.

_ (It is so easy to slide forward a little until their hands can fall into their outlines, wrapped firmly around each other's wrists.) _

The position feels comfortable, a reminder of freedom and air on their skin and just how much room they have to breath.

Jon smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> there will be more of these!! also please comment and come find me on [tumblr](archivizt.tumblr.com)!!


End file.
